


Some Of Us Are Human

by phenomenology



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I have No Excuse, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, everyone is alive and okay, it's just something short and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8943151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phenomenology/pseuds/phenomenology
Summary: it's just kind of fluffy? it was supposed to be more than this but I crapped out...anyway
Stiles gets hurt on a mission with the pack and Derek is a worried boyfriend.





	

Derek couldn’t help the wince that reflexively went through his body as he eased himself into a sitting position. His breath caught in his chest as pain lanced throughout every limb, reminding him of the damage done during the most recent pack escapade. Somehow he had made it back to the house, after fleeing the scene with Isaac, Erica, and Boyd before the police arrived. They returned to the recently renovated Hale house and Derek had promptly crashed on his couch upon entering. The couch wasn’t exactly the most comfortable thing in the world, and he had every intention of getting upstairs to his bed. But, sitting up had been enough of an ordeal that merely glancing at the staircase to his room seemed like torture.

Then again, there was also a shower upstairs, and Derek could really go for standing under the hot water at the moment.

Deciding that the lure of his warm shower was worth the pain it would cause to his healing body, Derek shoved ungracefully to his feet. Grunting as he regained his balance, Derek huffed out a pained sigh before shuffling towards the stairs.

Five minutes and a considerable amount of grunting, groaning, and painful stumbling later, Derek was squirming out of his ruined clothes in the bathroom upstairs. His clothes were basically destroyed at this point, torn and bloodstained beyond hope, really. With a heavy sigh, Derek tossed them aside on the floor, resolving to throw them out later.

Stepping into his shower, Derek twisted the knob around and stood gratefully under the subsequent spray of steaming water. A relieved breath fled his lips and the tension began to melt out of his muscles. Closing his eyes, Derek tilted his face up to the spray of water, relishing the feel of it running down his cheeks and over his shoulders. He was also hyperaware of the sting the water left on his still healing wounds, the sinews not entirely knit together yet. But Derek shook the feeling off and opened his eyes as he looked down to assess the state of his wounds.

There was a disproportionate amount of blood washing off and going down the drain than there was on his body. The wounds on Derek’s legs were all mostly healed at this point, the scars fading even as he stood there. The beasts they had fought off – and Deaton was still trying to figure out what the hell they _where_ – had left some nasty claw marks on his chest and abdomen, but even those were beginning to close up. The worst damage had been done to his back, as he could still feel the sting and tug of opened skin as he shifted around. 

Eventually though, the sting faded and the blood running off his back stopped staining the water red. Rolling his shoulders around in the sockets a bit; Derek cracked his neck and started to properly wash himself off. The dirt and blood that had gotten matted into his hair was unfortunately still there. Accelerated healing could do nothing for hair, regrettably.

As Derek stood in the shower, massaging the shampoo through his hair, he allowed his thoughts to wander a bit. The night had felt longer than usual, considering how early they had started hunting down the creatures currently terrorizing Beacon Hills. In fact, Derek was pretty sure that when he had dragged himself upstairs, the clock in his room had read somewhere around midnight, which was early for him.

The fight had been short-lived, but gruesome. The pack had stumbled upon the creatures much more quickly than they had anticipated, and they had been ill prepared to actually take the beasts out as a result. Fortunately enough, they had gotten in some good hits, forcing the creatures to retreat. However, damage to the pack had been heavy.

Scott had wound up almost as bad as Derek, being the self-sacrificing idiot that he was. Derek wasn’t worried though, because Scott’s healing factor tended to work a little faster than the rest of them. The pups – as most everyone affectionately referred to them – Isaac, Erica, and Boyd had all wandered off to a different room in the house to curl up and heal together. They often did this, and Derek wanted to join them sometimes, but he never found it in himself to do so. At least, not on his own; sometimes a certain someone would be over, and would drag him into the pile of warm bodies with carefree laughter and a triumphant smile. Those were really the only times Derek would join the pups.

The point was, they would heal, and they would be okay. The one that Derek was most worried about though was Stiles. The pack had had every intention of not involving the humans tonight for fear of not knowing enough about the creatures; but Stiles had tagged along with no regard for the level of danger the situation posed. Derek wasn’t sure why his boyfriend had so stubbornly insisted on coming along, but Stiles had paid the price for that stubbornness.

Something twisted in Derek’s gut as he remembered Scott frantically calling Lydia and Allison to come get Stiles so they could take him to Deaton. Derek had wanted to stay behind – and almost did – to make sure that Stiles would be okay. But the distant sirens and the tugging hands of his pack forced him to leave Stiles in Scott’s care. And it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Scott, but there was a level of protectiveness that Derek felt for Stiles, and he regretted leaving.

Shaking away the lingering negative thoughts, Derek shut off the water as he finished up his shower and stepped out. Grabbing a towel, he dried off and pulled on a clean shirt and a pair of sweats. With his hair still damp, Derek padded downstairs and followed his senses to where the pups were curled up together. Isaac and Boyd were passed out, Erica sandwiched between them. She, however, was drowsily staring at the artificial flickering lantern light on the coffee table nearby.

“Erica?” Derek said softly, not wanting to startle her if she was zoned out. She raised her eyes to him and smiled softly in greeting.

“You look much better,” she commented with a note of teasing in her sleepy voice. “And smell better, too.”

Derek sat down at her feet in the pile and nudged her gently in response, not wanting to do much else in case he woke up the boys.

“You three still look like hell,” he returned. Erica growled softly at him, drawing a tiny smirk to Derek’s lips. 

“You know…we could sense your worry,” Erica said quietly, watching him with a careful expression. The abrupt change in conversation made Derek wonder if they had done more than just notice it. They had probably talked about it, trying to give each other comfort. Derek felt guilty about not being able to keep his emotions from bleeding out to the others. As their alpha, he should be able to control that.

Isaac whimpered in his sleep in response to Derek’s shift in mood, and he furiously tried to push away the negative emotions to spare Isaac. Erica shot Derek a knowing look as she reached over to run her fingers through Isaac’s hair. 

“Was it about Stiles? Has Scott still not contacted you with an update?”

Derek shook his head and shifted his weight around on the floor. Scott was supposed to get back to Derek or one of the pups when he had news that Stiles was okay. But so far, he hadn’t even gotten so much as a text.

Erica let out a low whine and Derek absently reached out and reassuringly gripped her ankle. She settled a bit, but anxiety still roiled around all of them as they just continued to sit there in a little motley pile.

“I’m sure he will soon. Maybe—“

The chime of Derek’s ringtone abruptly cut Erica off. He snatched up his phone from where it had been left in his sweatpants pocket. A brief glance at the caller I.D. let Derek know that it was indeed Scott calling him.

“Scott?” Derek answered as quietly as he could, aware that Boyd and Isaac were still sound asleep.

There was a pause from the other end of the line, a pause that dropped a brick into Derek’s stomach, as he feared the worse. There was a soft breath from the other end of the line and Derek suddenly realized that it was far to light and high to be Scott.

“It’s Melissa. Scott’s busy but he wanted me to call you to give you an update.”

Derek felt like she was trying to be reassuring but it really wasn’t doing anything to ease his nerves. He didn’t know how to respond so he waited for her to continue speaking.

“Stiles,” Melissa did continue. “He’s gone.”

The world suddenly spun around Derek as he tried to make sense of what Melissa had just said. He was dimly aware of the little gasp that escaped Erica, her hearing picking up on Melissa’s words.

“What do you mean?” Derek responded quickly, his voice tight as he tried not to wake up the boys. 

“He’s not dead,” Melissa quickly realized the mistake in her wording and rushed to try and calm him. “But he vanished almost fifteen minutes ago. We don’t know where he is, where he may be going. He was just…gone.”

_Fifteen minutes?_ Derek thought incredulously. _It had taken them fifteen minutes to call them to tell them Stiles was missing? That was fifteen minutes that Stiles could have gotten himself even more injured! Or lost, or kidnapped, or even killed._

Derek tried very hard to reign in his raging emotions, knowing it would do no good to snap at Melissa. Erica had already picked up on the emotions Derek was struggling to control, and she whimpered as she shrank deeper into the pup pile. Derek gave her ankle another gentle squeeze and let out a breath.

“How badly is Stiles hurt?” Derek asked quickly. “How far do you think he would be able to get? Is he on any pain medication?”

He had to give Melissa credit for how calmly she responded. He knew that Stiles was like a son to her and this whole thing could not be easy for Melissa.

“I talked to Deaton a couple minutes ago when Scott told me what happened. Stiles apparently got stitches in his side and above his eyebrow, so Deaton is worried that Stiles might open them if he gets too far. I don’t think Deaton gave him any medication, or at least he didn’t say that he did.”

“Scott didn’t take him to the hospital?”

“No, he took Stiles to Deaton because there was no way they would have been able to explain what happened. I don’t like it anymore than you do, but I trust Deaton.”

Derek felt his jaw working as he pictured an injured Stiles wandering around in the middle of the night, probably freezing since winter was approaching. He had to find this kid and quickly.

“Thanks for letting me know, Melissa. We’ll find him.”

“Please let me know when you do. I called his dad, too. He’s worried sick.”

Derek let out a heavy breath and nodded, even though Melissa couldn’t see him. “I’ll make sure someone calls you when we find him.”

“Thank you,” Melissa said, her voice tight with worry before she hung up.

Derek met Erica’s eyes and she seemed to understand that he was about to run out on them. “Should I wake them up?”

Looking down at Isaac and Boyd’s peaceful faces, Derek shook his head and rubbed Erica’s ankle. “Let them sleep, and stay with them. I’ll go look for him and call if I think I need more help. You all need to rest.”

“So do you,” Erica protested half-heartedly, stifling a yawn as she tried to keep her eyes open.

Shoving to his feet, Derek shook his head a little and grabbed his jacket, where it was slung over the back of the nearby chair. He tugged it on as Erica reclined against Boyd’s chest, trying to stifle another yawn.

“I’ll rest when I get back. But Stiles can’t be alone out there right now. I have to find him.”

* * *

Derek had been running for what felt like hours when he finally caught a faint whiff of Stiles’ scent. It had really only been about half an hour, but Derek had almost made it all the way back to the spot where they had been fighting earlier that evening. That thought made anxiety and worry chew at Derek’s insides, terrified of the idea that Stiles – an injured and defenseless _human_ – was alone with those beasts nearby. He poured on the speed, as Stiles’ scent grew stronger and stronger, flooding his senses. 

“Stiles?” Derek called when all he could breathe in was the smell of the scrawny human. Pausing in the middle of the clearing, Derek whirled around in a circle and scanned furiously for any sign of Stiles. “Stiles?” Derek shouted again, louder this time.

“D-Derek?”

The voice was so small, so shaky and terrified, that Derek could have sworn he heard his heart shatter when it reached his ears. Spinning around quickly, Derek’s eyes easily found Stiles, standing hunched over with his arms wrapped around his torso and shaking violently. He was wearing a plain t-shirt that looked like it was swimming on him and the same dirtied jeans he had been in earlier. The poor kid was barefoot and looked positively miserable.

“Stiles,” the name rushed from Derek’s lips in relief as he hurried to the boy’s side. He gripped Stiles’ shoulders in his hands and scanned him up and down for any signs of new injuries. There were indeed stitches above Stiles’ eyebrow, the dark color standing in stark contrast to Stiles’ pale complexion. Now that Derek felt a little calmer and was closer, he could smell the disinfectant and chemicals Deaton had used to treat Stiles’ wounds. There was also the mingling metallic stench of blood, making Derek’s stomach roil.

“Did you get hurt again? Did you open your stitches?” Derek kept one steadying hand on Stiles’ shoulder, using the other to carefully pull up the dark fabric of the t-shirt. Sure enough, a few of the lower stitches that had been holding a very long, nasty gash on Stiles’ abdomen together had popped free. There wasn’t a ton of blood, but Stiles was bleeding all the same. The poor, shaking human was covered in other miscellaneous scrapes and bruises, but somehow he was still standing. 

“I’m taking you back to Deaton. What were you even doing out here, why did you leave?” Derek peppered Stiles with questions as he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it firmly around the boy’s shoulders. Stiles seemed to melt under the added layer of warmth, his eyes falling shut happily. He looked to be in no state to walk, so Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles’ shoulders before scooping his other arm underneath Stiles’ legs. Once Stiles was settled, and staring in surprise at Derek, the werewolf started off back in the direction of town. There was a faint heat in his cheeks as Stiles continued to stare openly at him, but Derek did his best to ignore it.

“What happened, Stiles?” Derek finally asked again after a few minutes of silence. There was no immediate answer, prompting him to look down at Stiles, who was avoiding Derek’s eye now. 

“I-I don’t really remember,” Stiles mumbled. “I just…remember wanting to find the beasts and be helpful for once, and then I was out here, freezing my ass off and completely lost.”

A weary sigh slipped past Derek’s lips as he tightened his hold on Stiles minutely. After everything the pack had been through together – after everything that _Stiles_ had done for them and been through with them – the human still thought he was useless baggage.

“Is that why you insisted on coming with us tonight? Even though we told you and Allison and Lydia to stay behind?” Stiles winced slightly and that was all the confirmation Derek needed. “Stiles, you are not useless. You’ve done so much for this pack that I don’t think we would be able to function without you. We wouldn’t be able to function well without any of the pack members, but that includes you, too. You of all people should know that taking down an enemy isn’t entirely brute force and throwing punches. You have to be able to piece things together and figure out their plays to anticipate their moves; which is exactly what you do.”

Stiles was shaking again against Derek’s chest, Derek knowing that it was because Stiles was probably trying to hold in tears. Adjusting his hold on Stiles, Derek held the boy a little closer to his chest before continuing.

“We need you in our pack, Stiles. So don’t run off on your own anymore, okay? Do you know how worried everyone is? Even Melissa is worried; and your dad-”

“Crap,” Stiles swore suddenly, his voice shaky from his tears. He covered his face with his hand and groaned softly. “My dad…he’s gonna kill me.”

Derek found himself smiling fondly at that and he shook his head a little, sighing through his nose as he carefully climbed over a fallen tree. They were getting close to town again, the familiar scents of home reaching Derek’s nose. He gave Stiles a very light jostle to get his attention and chuckled softly.

“I think he’ll just be happy to see you’re alive, Stiles.”

* * *

Two hours and a phone call later, Stiles was draped over Derek’s back – piggy back style – and sound asleep as the door to the Hale house was wrenched open. Erica stood in the doorway with wide eyes and messy hair, smelling of sleep and the other two pups. Her bright eyes took in the unconscious boy on Derek’s back and her alpha’s tiny smile before she stood aside and let Derek trudge into the warm house.

“Is he okay?” Erica asked softly, closing the door and locking it before following Derek, who was already heading upstairs.

Derek nodded carefully, trying not to disturb Stiles’ head where it lolled on Derek’s shoulder. The boy’s scruffy hair tickled Derek’s neck, but he forced himself to ignore the feeling so as not to disturb Stiles’ slumber.

“He’ll be okay, and I talked to his dad. The police are out searching for signs of the beasts and Stilinski didn’t want Stiles home alone. So Stiles is spending the night…and probably a good chunk of tomorrow depending on if the cops find anything.”

There was a noise of approval from Erica as she slipped past Derek and opened Derek’s door for him, seeming to know that Derek intended on not letting Stiles out of his sight for a while. Nodding his thanks to Erica, Derek walked right over to his bed and carefully laid Stiles down, tugging the covers up to the boy’s chin. Erica whispered a fond good night before the door to the room softly clicked shut.

Letting out a weary breath, Derek pushed his fingers gently through Stiles’ hair, reveling in the warmth that radiated from the boy’s body. Leaning over, Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles’ hairline, burying his nose in the sweet smell of shampoo and Stiles for a moment. Pulling back, Derek crawled carefully over Stiles’ prone form and burrowed beneath the covers with him. Before Derek could even make a move though, Stiles rolled into Derek’s side and twisted his fingers unconsciously into Derek’s shirt before stilling again.

Smiling softly, Derek wrapped himself around Stiles and let a contented sigh slip past his lips before drifting off to sleep.


End file.
